The Subject of Dreams Become Nightmares
by Catastrophic Mastermind
Summary: Destiel all the way! When Castiel comes to Dean in the middle of the night, the hunter is left lost and utterly confused in more ways than one. Can he save his angel before it's too late? (Rated T for language, possible M later on. Depends on the ending. I do not own the image.) Thank you for reading! Reviews are welcomed, & I do hope you enjoy! Chapters posted upon completion!
1. A Visit in the Night

**A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my story! This is my first piece of writing in far too long, and I am trying to get back into it as I used to write everyday. Reviews are welcomed, and criticism will be taken for improvement. Sorry that my writing is so rusty, but please bear with me and requests for stories are much appreciated! Thank you!**

"Dean. Wake up. _Dean!_ " The slumbering man grumbled, not wanting to even turn over. Head still in his pillow, he only sat up upon hearing the urgency in the last word. Rubbing his sleep bleared eyes into focus, Dean looked to the figure at the foot of the grubby motel bed and felt his heart quicken as his consciousness come sharper into focus once recognition set in.

"Cas?" Though the angel would generally pop in without warning, late night visits were generally warranted with some sort of Earth shattering, hell was crawling out (again) news. "What is it? What baddie do we have the damn pleasure of fighting now?"

Castiel's face was set in his usual solemn gaze, waiting for Dean to fully come to so that the gravity of the situation would not be lost on tired ears. Taking an inward breath, he glanced down to his feet before meeting the bright emerald eyes that not even the shadows could hide. "It's Heaven. The angels that give us commands are looking to eradicate all traces of corruption in their ranks. Because of my… doubts, I am a prime target. They are hunting me Dean."

Tilting his head slightly as Cas spoke, Dean felt his pupils dilate before he squinted them in a scowl to mask his concern. The angel's deep voice could not hide the hint of utter fear that bled into his words. Deciding it better to go with his sarcastic attitude than the sympathetic nature of his still asleep brother (who definitely lived up to his name with the moose sized snores coming out of his slightly drooling mug), he simply gave his signature gruff-style sass. "So a bunch of halos are up there trying to tell you that you can't doubt the orders that make about an ass hairs amount of sense. What, are they going to take you to holy boot camp to get your mindless soldier badge?"

Even though he knew this was how Dean typically reacted, there was no doubt that he did care. But with this, Castiel did not have the patience to find out what a camp of boots had to do with any of it. "I'm not sure what you mean by this 'badge', but that is not of concern." Taking a few steps past the bed, he let out a long sigh before taking a seat at the edge of the mattress. Looking to Dean with his crystal blue eyes, a blind man could see the despair that was etched into the depths. Immediately dropping his façade as his heart clenched in concern, Dean moved to sit next to the angel. His eyes meeting the other man's he let his voice fill with the unease he truly felt.

"Cas, just tell me exactly what the hell this all means." Not meeting the probing look for a few beats, he turned his gaze to Dean and allowed time to slow first to a crawl before stopping it all together. He took in the sharp curve of Dean's jaw, the soft lines of his mouth (so different when they weren't pressed in a hard line for battle), the gentle traces of stubble along his chin, and closing his eyes, he allowed time to crawl once more to allow him the sound of the strong heartbeat that seemed to reverberate through his core. With time nearly back to its regular tempo, he looked finally into the brilliant green eyes, tinged with just a bit of gold but ever reflecting the hunter green that the man favored. All of this in the span of two heartbeats for Dean, but lasting for a few all to brief minutes to the angel as he memorized him, taking in every detail he would miss, each and every trait that would make his heart pang in grief, even when he no longer knew why. Hooding the pain in his eyes, he met the questioning gaze as time resumed. Mustering his strength, he allowed himself a moment more to be lost in the absinthe depths before his voice betrayed him.

"It means that I am out of places to hide." As if on cue, an ethereal shrill emanated in the small room accompanied by the sweeping spotlight of an archangel. "Cas, we ca-"his voice hitched to a shocked end as his face was now captured in the battle roughened hands of the angel. Dean saw the turmoil raging in the normally stoic features, the agony in the celestial blue eyes, and the determined line of his mouth. Opening his own to give what little assurance that he could, to tell him that they would find a way to fix this, just as they always did, but found his now crushed against Castiel's. Eyes widening in shock for a moment as his heart raced in confusion, he almost pulled away. Something about this though, simply felt right. He could not explain it, but the fervor and utter desperation in the lips against his banished any thought from his mind, and his body spoke for him, returning the kiss with the hunger of a starved man. It wasn't until he tasted salt that he let his eyes slide open, the kiss now over but their lips still lingering on the others. His hand went to the angel's cheek to wipe away the single tear that had escaped, and found Cas leaning into the touch with his eyes still closed as though they were holding back more than the rogue drop.

"Dean…" The huskiness of his voice was meant to hide the sorrow underneath, but came out rough as the unshed tears raged for the surface. The shrill returned, louder, demanding, nearly shattering the glass with its ferocity. Glancing back with fear at the light, Castiel turned to Dean once more and placed two fingers on his forehead, giving a longing smile as his voice shook. "Please, just remember me." With a final blast of blinding light, the windows blasted inward and a cacophony of shattering and eerie screams enveloped Castiel.

Dean woke with a jolt. His shirt covered in sweat and his sheets a tangled mess around him. Gasping, he grabbed the gun under his pillow and surveyed the room. Sam was sound asleep, the windows were still intact, and there was no trace of Cas. Flopping back down on the bed, Dean covered his face with the crook of his elbow and allowed to racing heart to slow. His fingers on their own accord traced his lips, still tingling from the dream. His eyes shooting open, he recalled the vividness of it all, the feeling of electricity through his very being the moment he was kissed. And… The look of horror on Cas' face, even as he tried to smile bravely back at Dean just before he vanished. He needed to know. His mind was reeling, and he needed to know something, anything dammit! Not wanting to wake Sam, he went outside, leaning against the Impala and taking a deep breath of the crisp air.

"Cas! If you can hear me zap down here!" Trepidation flooded his voice, so he cleared his throat and tried again, his normal attitude though still cracked on his words. "Come on man, get your feathery ass down here!" After waiting for a few minutes, he began pacing behind his Baby, and attempted to let rational thought come into his mind. What if it was just a stupid dream? He could be getting himself all worked up on some silly school-girl like crap. Besides, he wasn't into dudes. Right? Right. Yet… Why would a dream feel that real? The only times his "dreams" would feel like that is if Cas showed up in them to talk. Damn. He only did that when it wasn't safe to speak in person. Some holy high roller must really be after him then. His mind flashed with the memory of the blinding light that ripped Cas out of the room, the deep scream that followed and still rang in his ears as he woke. Leaning across the hood of the Impala, he folded his hands and pressed his thumbs along the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the sky trying to see past the curtain of clouds that shrouded the stars from his view, searching for the one star that he always prayed to when he called his guardian. "Please Cas… If you can hear me, just let me know you're ok. You don't even need to poof down here, just make the lights flicker or some shit. Please?" He waited in silence, eyes never straying from his lone star, when he heard a street light "POP!" in an explosive light, followed by the protective hood that flew across the lot violently. Letting out the breath he did not realize he was holding, he grimaced as the knot in his stomach only clenched tighter. "I know I said, 'or some shit', but that's not what I meant." His voice was barely a whisper, and in the back of his mind he could feel the dread of his dream take hold.

"Dean. DEAN! For God's sake man, wake up!"

Springing upright he still heard the echo of another voice lingering in his mind as he surveyed his surroundings, seeing nothing but another crummy hotel and his brother he glared at the latter with a deep scowl. "What Sammy? Can't a man sleep?" Giving another groan, he turned back and flopped onto the bed, his face burying in the pillow. "Sleep yes, but Dean you were yelling again." Dean didn't even need to look up to know his brother was giving him that exasperated puppy-dog face that he could not stand at times like this. Even though the rawness off his throat gave truth to what Sam said, he didn't need to know the physical pain to feel the torture in his mind. It had been nearly a month since he last "saw" Cas. Every night since then, more dreams flooded his unwaking hours. Each night was worse than the one before it. "DEAN!" Snapping out of his trance, he finally looked at his brother. Deciding there was no point in trying to go back to the hell of sleep again he reached for the bottle of Jim next to the bed and took a swig before giving Sam his attention. Shaking his head, Sam turned a chair around, sitting in it backwards as he clasped his large hands together. "If you keep on like this without talking about it, you know it's just going to get worse. I'm your brother. Talk to me."

Taking another large swig, Dean's scowl darkened and he looked to his hands before meeting his brother's gaze. "Sam, what happens in my sleep is my problem. I do not need you trying to psycholosize me or some bullshit. If it's something you need to know I'll tell you. Until then, SHUT YOUR CAKE HOLE!" Sam recoiled at the unexpected outburst, then shook his head as he heard the hotel door slam behind Dean. When would his brother admit that Cas being gone was getting to him. He had told him about the dream he wasn't sure was real (though he knew there was a part Dean wasn't telling him). Even more worrying was the fact that no one had any idea where Castiel was or what was happening to him.

 _Don't even try 'cause  
You can't ignore her_

 _She's my cherry pie  
Cool drink of water  
Such a sweet surprise  
Tastes so good  
Make a grown man cry  
Sweet cherry pie oh yeah…_

The Impala was flying down the road, not bothering to worry about a speed limit as the radio cranked out the music as loud as it could before the static made it a jumbled mess. Dean cranked the voume up one more notch, nearly blowing out the speakers, but those he could fix. The screams, the gut wrenching sobs, the desperate pleas, all of it still rang through his head. It seemed as though he couldn't even escape it when he was awake anymore. Without a thought, he slammed the wheel to the right, tires screeching in protest, almost mimicking the shrieks in his mind, and shuddered to a violent halt when he killed the ignition and yanked out the keys. Having found a small place on the side of the road, just through a few trees to keep the car from direct sight, he let his head drop back onto the headrest, a sob nearly escaping his throat. He just needed space, space without Sam breathing down his neck to find the cause of his troubles. He couldn't tell Sam… How could he when his lips trembled at the mere thought, his mouth unable to form the words.

He remembered the first nightmare, and how hard it had been to witness. Thinking nothing could make his heart clench anymore, the next night came. Each night he was forced to watch Cas get tortured. Those damned angels were creative, each night a new and more brutal torture ensued. At the end of each session, they would just leave him there. Hanging from the walls, bloody, bruised, and broken, his head hanging, all of his strength focused on just staying awake. Just before Dean woke up, it felt as though Cas would look straight at him, a weak smile tugging at his cracked lips. ' _I haven't forgotten yet.'_ Seeming as if they heard him, it was at that point that an angel would step through the door, his hands glowing a menacing white tinged with amber, a noise akin to searing meat emitting from the luminance, even as it hovered in the air. The bastard would snicker, and lean over the broken angel, his body quaking with the effort of simply trying to stand upright, just before he slammed his hands over Cas' temples. He would wake with the ear splitting wail of despair still in his pounding head each morning. No matter how the torment would begin or progress, it ended always with the light.

Tears were streaming down Dean's face, his closed eyes unable to contain the misery that he held in check in front of Sam. He didn't need to know what Cas was going through, he saw it. He felt the pain the angel went through as though it were his own. His mind remembering all too well the treatment he received in hell, supplementing his body with the physical remembrance. "Cas…" His words rough and tear ridden, he looked to the sky, imagining it past the car roof, imagining the place of his lone star in the sky. "Please… How do I find you?"

 **(The next chapter will be posted as soon as I am finished writing. It shouldn't be too long, but endings are the bane of story telling -_-)**


	2. Cas?

**A/N: Thank you so much for reading up to this point! If you have any reviews, suggestions, or critiques it would be a pleasure to hear them :) I do hope you enjoy, without further ado, here is Chapter 2!**

Another month passed. The sleepless nights any hunter was used to paled in comparison to the torment that was palpable in the pitch rings under Dean's eyes. Sam had even ceased his inquires, realizing that by doing so he was only making his brother live it again during the day. Bobby was enlisted to find a way to pin point Castiel's location. Finding nothing useful, they tried yet again to summon him only to be met with the electric appliances busting apart and all power being drained from any surrounding area. They were at Bobby's now, Dean, utterly exhausted was fighting his dreaded sleep as he slumped on the couch. Sam went to the kitchen, grabbing a much needed cold beer and tossed one to the trucker hat clad man. After drinking in silence, they popped open another, Sam taking a breath before pushing his hair out of his eyes and spoke quietly.

"Bobby, I don't know how much longer he can do this. I don't know what he's seeing, but he wasn't even this bad after he came back from hell." Grunting in agreement, Bobby shifted his hat and took a long chug. "I know. But we don't have hide nor hair of where we can find Cas, and my books are running out. Wherever this supposed archangel took him, obviously does not want him to be found. Angels of the freaking Lord my ass…" Sharing a look, their attention was broken as the distinct sound of flapping resonated from the living room. Each of them immediately brandished the first weapon they could grab and ran into the living room to see Dean still asleep on the couch, two angels in front of him, one in familiar tan trench coat.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sam lowered his blade and gave a small laugh. "Cas! Where have you been?" Taking a step forward he placed a hand on his shoulder, and visibly flinched as the face that met Sam's was hard, eyes utterly devoid of his normal light, the ice blue of them now visibly cold and lacking the emotions he was only beginning to let show. "Cas?" The angel next to Castiel final turned to look at Bobby and Sam with an air of amusement. He was taller than even Sam, with a navy blue suit that was impeccably clean, the color pairing well with his defined caramel skin. Letting a deep chuckle that resembled more of a snarl escape his throat, the deep resonance of his voice gave an air of command that made even the two men bristle with the near inkling to obey. "It is time Castiel. Do what we came here to do. Prove that you are free from your treacherous doubt." By now, Dean was awake and reaching to stealthily disarm the newcomer. Sensing this, the angel grinned with another dark laugh and raised his hands, simultaneously pinning all three men to the nearest wall with a sickening thud. "Now, without interruption this time." Turning back to the despondent Castiel, he placed an angel blade in his hand and glared up at Dean with an evil smirk. "Kill him."

Dean simply scoffed. "Look goody evil wings, Cas isn't someone you can command." Even as he spoke though, he saw the dead gaze that dulled the once brilliant crystalline blue to nothing more than a dim, murky grey. His heart froze, searching for the warmth, the innocent light that would accompany the quirk of his head when he would ask questions that even a child would know the answer to, the sweet smile when he tried to translate Enocchian jokes, or the little grin that would tug his lips just to the side when he learned something entirely new. All of that was nowhere to be found now, the stone faced expression that slowly turned to him made his breath hitch in uncertainty. Was this… Was this what they were doing to him? "YOU BASTARDS! WHY?! HE DID NOTHING!"

At this, the angel turned, hands on Castiel's shoulders. Looking first at Castiel, he feigned confusion and looked back to Dean. "I don't see what your problem is. He is the good little soldier he should have remained to be. Obedient. Malleable. Completely doubtless, and will follow my orders on a whim. Just as he was meant to." Shoving his hands from Castiel's shoulders, he grinned wickedly. "All of my work wiped the slate clean. The last step is to erase any influence that could make him doubtful of the grand plan again. In this case, that is you, Dean Winchester." At this Dean's stomach twisted in such a sick knot that he nearly gasped at the pain of it. Everything they had done to Cas… Had been because of him? Because he had encouraged him to rebel? Because he had simply wanted to let him feel what it was to be free in his choices? To see the world without the weight of orders keeping him from even being able to feel… Taking his contemplative silence as a confession, the angel chuckled.

"You Winchester's cause us nothing but trouble for such insolent little worms. But you Dean, now you managed to not only corrupt Castiel, but other angels are beginning to follow his example. Angels are not meant to have free will! They are built for orders! Do you know how many minds I have been forced to reset?!" The volume of his voice had been building throughout his sentence, ending with a near bellow of rage as his eyes flashed. Composing himself quickly, he straightened his tie and regained his holier-than-thou posture. Dean opened his mouth to speak, quickly being cut off as the angel once more raised his hand and silenced the words in his throat, nearly choking him in the process. His pleading forest eyes met Castiel's lusterless steel orbs, letting his gaze speak as where his mouth could not, hoping that he could reach the angel he knew. The angel that he had grown to- "Enough. You are not worth an explanation. Castiel, finish this mud monkey."

Castiel had been motionless through the entire exchange. His mind however, had been raging in a turbulent attempt to grasp why this man before him brought such a sense of sorrow to his chest. Heart? That normally did not enter the equation once an order was given. His eyes flicked to the man's, confused entirely at the look of absolute suffering that had begun to make them bright with water pooling in the corners. He found himself completely trapped in that gaze, trying to break away from the connection when he heard his superior speaking, but the words sounded unimportant, muffled even, so long as his eyes remained on this human named Dean. He was completely tuned to the ever racing heartbeat of his, curious as to why he found himself so focused on the sound. Wondering why he wished to make it slow, to ease it's pace, or… Something told him there was a pleasant way for that beat to race. A nagging in the back of his mind, growing almost urgent, but he could not identify why. Or for that matter what reason simply looking at this man made him ask so many questions when he was only supposed to obey, think for strategic battle purposes, and not beyond that. Still locked intently on the emerald eyes, he only broke out of his trance upon hearing, "Did I fry too much memory? No matter. It need not be you that cuts him down. So long as his influence is gone, my work won't be soiled." His superior unsheathed his blade from the confines of his sleeve, a small " _chink_ " resonating as it met his palm. The world around him seemed to slow to a near halt as he saw the blade swinging in vicious uppercut aimed straight for the man's now silent heart. Without a thought, his body moved on its own accord, a scream tearing from his throat as instinct reacted faster than his own mind.

Dean was frozen against the wall, utterly paralyzed both from the invisible force of the angel and from the scene unfolding before him. Before he could even blink an eye, Cas had leapt in front of the unseen strike that had been coming his way, arms spread wide to shield him as a thunderous "NO!" reverberated off the walls, soon replaced with a gasp of pain. Eyes wide, Dean wrenched himself from the wall in the attacker's momentary confusion. Grasping the angel's wrist, they grappled for a few moments, wrestling for control of the blade. Glancing over, Dean saw Cas clutching his chest as a deep scarlet stain soaked his button-up shirt, spreading profusely until it even began dripping down the fabric, leaving a trail almost reminiscent of tears behind. Eyes closed in pain, he his knees met the floor, a small gasp parting his lips just before he teetered sideways and hit the floor with a thud of finality. "CAS!" Dean's voice could not even contend with the searing rage within himself that turned his vision the same hue as the blood that now pooled around his angel. Fueled with vengeance, he found purchase in his grip and yanked the bastard's arm to a backwards right angle, only stopping upon hearing the bone snap quite satisfyingly. The towering angel bellowed in a mixture of outrage and pain, soon cut off as the hunter turned his murderous frenzy into a palpable force, driving the gleaming silver blade into his throat and giving it a sharp twist for good measure. The angel's eyes were saucers, dazed and in utter awe that he had been bested. A gurgle of crimson choked from the opening in his neck as he even now attempted to get a last word in.

Chest heaving with more emotions than he cared to name, the world around Dean seemed to ebb away, the only place of clarity resting where Cas now laid in a crumpled heap, chest still pouring out his life force in a steady rhythm. Rushing to his side, Dean did not even hear the gasps of air that his brother and Bobby took, desperately refilling their lungs from the suffocation of the angel's hold. Taking Cas' limp form in his arms, his hand trembled as he pushed the raven locks that were now plastered to his face out of the way. "Cas? Come on Cas, you'll be alright." His other hand attempting to staunch the still gushing blood, he slowly rocked the angel back and forth. "Bobby! Don't just stand there dammit!" Both Sam and Bobby remained where they stood; giving the other a sober glance, the elder of the two stepped forward to rest a hand on Dean's shoulder. Letting out a regretful sigh, his voice was low, "Son, that was an angel blade to the heart. I thin-" Without warning, Dean grabbed Bobby's shirt collar, hand soaked in his angel's blood, bringing him inches from his face with a low growl. "I don't care if it was a damned bullet from the Colt. I'm not giving up on him!" With this, he roughly shoved him back in his surmounting grief, already yelling for the doubts in his mind to shut the hell up.

Without another word, Sam had brought the tool kit that functioned as the hunter hospital forward and began to field dress the wound. Dean gently shifted, doing his best not to jostle the wound as he re-positioned the unconscious Cas, both to cradle his head in his lap as well as to prevent the nearly animalistic urge that had made him initially snarl at Sam when he had touched the angel suppressed. He did not want anyone to touch Cas, did not want anyone near him while he was so vulnerable. He had only conceded once he found his hands shaking so unsteadily that he could not even unravel the gauze. He was trying to stay calm, to bring all of his years as a hardened hunter to the surface, to gain some freakin' control! Drawing a shaky breath, he pressed his forehead against Castiel's, keeping his mind tuned to the heartbeat, desperately wishing that the pulse would stop slowing with each passing minute. Hearing the slowing beat though was better than what his ears kept picking up in bits and pieces from Bobby and Sam. "…lost a lot of bl-" "-nk it may have hit an ar-" "I'm not a damn surgeon Sam!" Closing his mind from their voices, he started to count the beats. Fifty per minute. _Stay with me Cas…_ Forty-three per minute. _Please! I just found you!_ Thirty per minute. Eyes screwed shut, the tears fell anyway. Each one landing on the non-responsive face underneath him with a nearly inaudible " _plit_ " Not even registering the other two men in the room, Dean's voice cut into the air, rough, drained, and heartbroken. "Cas… I will always remember you. Please, just come back to me so I won't have to..."

 **Well, this story is definitely longer than I intended it to be, though it is wonderful to be writing again! The next chapter (which may or may not be the ending, hard to tell, I just go with the flow of words) should be up tomorrow. My goal is to write everyday again, so here's to another chapter ^_^**


	3. Lingering

**A/N: Thank you again for staying with the story this long. If you have any suggestions, do feel free to let me know. :)**

Heavy… That's all Castiel could register. His limbs, his eyelids, even his blood (what he could feel he had left) all felt as though it was replaced by molten lead. He could scarcely hear voices around him, though he could not make out the words. He wondered… Seemed he had been doing quite a bit of that today… From the moment he had come into the house with his superior and seen the still form of the sleeping man named Dean, all of his thoughts were a jumbled mess. His head was pounding, trying to make sense of whatever invisible conflict was taking hold of his entire being, as though some crucial part of him was wrestling to come to the surface, screeching to be heard, yet trapped in a web of barbs unable to break free. His tormented mind was nearly splitting itself apart, desperately reeling to discern the jumble of things, feelings that were not tolerated, to simply find some sense to it all. He vaguely felt hands on him, his heart rate slowing as his angelic abilities shut down the needs of the vessel, lest it keep him from healing himself. The pain in his chest racked him, and his body attempted to numb the nerves there, to lessen the distracting force of the searing wound so that his mind would be allowed to continue the battle amongst himself. Finding the agonizing burn of the blade too great to focus as a grimace tightened the lines of his face, he decided it was best to let consciousness dwindle as it would. He could sort out his thoughts later. Right now, his body demanded relief. Instinct dictated that he make sure his surroundings were at least moderately safe before he could no longer control the ever increasing darkness that tinged all corners of his being. With a great deal of mental effort, he pried his eyes open, managing only to gain slits of vision. In that brief moment though, he was met once again by those striking emerald eyes, rimmed red and vibrantly shining with fresh tears brimming in the waterline. Tilting his head with a paired wince, he vaguely felt his face being held, his body leaning into the touch as a small part of his mind pushed to the forefront. He fought the haze that dimmed his vision, desperately hanging onto the entrancing gaze, and found his mouth part, his voice coming out as little more than a rasped breath before he felt himself slip into the void, unaware that his vessel's heart was no longer beating. "…De-an..?"

A week. A full one-hundred and sixty eight hours of sleeplessness to tack onto the already rest deprived soul of Dean. He moved only from Cas' side to eat, scarce as he did (pie not even being able to bribe him). Sam and Bobby had moved a cot next to the guest bed the angel was now occupying in a vain attempt to encourage him to sleep. Dean's eyes were hooded, his lids fighting to simply slip closed for longer than the two hour reprieve the man gave them every second day. Those hooded eyes though, never once left the unmoving face of Castiel. He had almost given up hope. Had almost let grief drag him into a desolate hole inside, had almost lost himself in an excessive drunken stupor. Almost. But on the fifth day, he had heard a single heartbeat. His head had been laying on the angel's still chest, sleep overcoming his will, when he heard it. At first he had dismissed the sound, enraged at his senses for giving him a false sign, thinking it only a fever dream from his brain to give him some incentive to take care of his bodily needs. Until he heard a second beat. He had lifted his head slowly, in disbelief and exhaustion, glancing in anticipation at the frozen face before him, waiting for some small, subtle sign that he was coming to. Feeling his gut clench, he let his head slowly drift down, hanging against his chest as he fought back tears. He never cried this much, but he couldn't put on a mask as he normally did. Not this time. Not with Cas. Ignoring the sound of approaching footsteps, he gingerly laid his head against the angel's side, careful to avoid the wound, but still close enough to hear the slow pulse beginning to regulate. Five per minute. Letting his lids slip closed, he kept careful count, until the slow, gentle beat became a steadily increasing tempo of a lullaby.

Sam was standing in the doorway, watching his brother closely. He had never seen a death get his brother this deeply. When their father passed at the hands of Yellow Eyes, dean had funneled his emotions into anger, destroying monsters they came across as if they were the demon themselves. But now he was actually grieving. Giving into his heartbreak and tending to the angel as if… Pushing that thought aside, he recollected that way Dean had reacted when he had spoken to him last. He had meant well, meant to give Dean the news gently, to help him move on. _'Dean. He's gone. There isn't a pulse. He hasn't moved, and his wound is barely healing. It's time we gave him a hunter's burial. Honor him Dean, but you have to let him go.'_ He had stood, tense as a bowstring, expecting the imminent eruption of yelling in denial, the fist across his face as he vent his hurt onto the nearest target. Waiting, his eyes scrunched and ready, but none of it happened. Bewildered, Sam turned to his brother and laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. _'Dean?'_ His brother did not move, his breathing steady as a drum, eyes never leaving the still man before him. Cocking his head only slightly in the direction of Sam, his voice was calm, nearly eerie in the serene sense it gave _. 'He's not gone. I heard him Sammy. Even when his heart stopped beating… He was still there.'_ At that Dean had turned his gaze to his younger brother, eyes sagging from the weight of the bags that gave sense to his fatigue, but even then alive with the glimmer of hope that brought the golden flecks to the surface. _'He's still with me.'_

 ** _I know it's short, but i didn't have too much time to write today. Thank you so much! The next chapter will be posted ASAP!_**


	4. Awake

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting, life happened. If you have read to this point thank you! Please leave feedback, it will all be taken for improvement :)**

Castiel lay completely void of movement. The pain in his chest was still immense, though no longer the agonizing searing in his flesh as it was for the first few days. He lay there, letting his body heal, not wishing to even twitch his fingers as the power of the blade still coursed through his veins, sending a spike of torment to the initial wound. Simple as they seemed, angel blades possessed an energy that specifically resounded with an angel's inner being and none too pleasantly. He could feel the residual essence of the blow cover his body almost as if it were a thick web, weighing down even his thoughts. He let his mind wander as best it could as it wove in and out of consciousness, trying to let the scattered pieces fall where they might and hope it was in the correct place. He could feel a presence next to him during this time. He could not explain why, but he felt quite soothed and at ease with it there. Occasionally, he would faintly sense a touch, almost hesitant, but strong all the same. The first time he had to keep himself from flinching at the contact, his very skin still sore, yet after a moment he felt himself easing into the contact. His mind seemed even more baffled as he found comfort in these brushes against his skin, knowing that he should know the reason, but alas found it just out of his reach. _Who are you?_

It was on the eighth morning. Finding the effects of the blade nearly dissipated from his body, Castiel let his fingers twitch tentatively, assessing in that simple motion the sensation in his nerves as it traveled from his mind, twining down the flow of his arm, tingling a bit sharply in his forearm, and finally moving down to the tips of his hand without resistance. Satisfied that the lingering web of the blade was now fading, feeling as though a gentle breeze now caressed the power away, he let his eyes slide open. Blinking at to adjust his eyes from the stark contrast of complete darkness to even that of the dimly lit room, he took in the ceiling above him, letting his senses focus on being aware again. After a few moments, he looked to his side where he the continued presence never strayed from his left side. He blinked a couple of times more, just to make certain that his eyes were not mistaken or even construed from the absolute chaos still in his mind. There sat Dean. The man who set his already jumbled mind into more of an unorganized slew. The man who for some reason he had taken the blade for, though he still hadn't the slightest clue why. The man whose head lay gently against his side, pressed almost comfortingly next to his ribs, a deep snore now tickling his skin. Was he the source of the presence? Putting aside his confusion, he breathed as deeply as he dared, wishing his mind would make sense of itself. Glancing down, Castiel took in the residual damage. His entire chest was wrapped in clean gauze, though there was a sizable fresh crimson stain dead in the middle of his chest. Now that the effects of the blade were only a whisper of the power it had been, his body would begin to heal the physical wounds instead of focusing on expelling the celestial efficacy. He would heal. Now, it was time to piece back his mind. Raising his head slightly, Castiel opened his mouth a sliver, his breath still labored as his voice came out in a cough. "Wh- where am I?"

Dean's head shot up, his heart racing as his eyes met the deep cerulean that he never knew could be missed so much. His head swirling with a flush of dizziness from the abrupt wakefulness, a smile beamed onto his lips as an overwhelming rush of relief spread through him with such an impact that he nearly choked. Tears brimmed, but he shook them away, bringing Cas into a tight hug. He put everything into his embrace. All of the pent up fear, worry, heartbreak, all of the doubt, and utter agony he had wrestled with while his angel was comatose. In that embrace though, there was also hope. Joy. And an emotion he had not yet been able to say to anyone. Not since her. To hide the tears that were threatening to spill, he buried his head in Cas' neck, desperately clinging to him, until he felt the warmth of blood from the other man's chest. Dammit! He hadn't even felt that Cas was tense and wincing the entire time. Nothing had registered in his need to feel the life again as he held him in his arms. Pulling back abruptly, Dean held him at an arm's length now, as if assessing the damage. Giving a sheepish grin, he released the angel and wiped the corner of a traitorous eye. His gaze scanned the bandaged chest, looking for further marks of injury while he attempted to compose his voice. Clearing his throat, the sound that came out was hoarse from the lingering sorrow, brimming with the unshed tears of joy, and perhaps most noticeable of all to the common ear, a severe lacking of water. "You're at Bobby's. You've been healing up after taking that angel blade. How are you feeling Cas?"

Feeling? Right now he felt sore from the unexpected force of being pulled into the hug. It felt as if this man had been trying to squeeze him apart, though perhaps he was similar to the cupids and their way of expressing welcome. Glancing at him though, Castiel did not think he was one to express emotion lightly. If that were to truly be the case, then what had caused Dean to express such emotion towards him? Perhaps humans were more complex than he thought. Sitting completely upright with a pained grunt, he leaned against the head of the bed for support, leveling his gaze and answered bluntly, his response flat and to the point. "Sore. Who is this Bobby?"

 **I'm sorry it's another short one. There are two paths this story can go down, and your feedback will be much appreciated. Path A will continue this story and make it much longer and detailed. Path B will wrap it up in a nice little bow with a fluff type ending. I've already started writing on both ideas to see which would flesh out better, but am in need of advice. Thank you guys!**


	5. Recollection Perhaps?

**A/N: Here we are. The path is A. Therefore! The story now has quite a ways to go, and will be full fledged and detailed. Please let me know if there is anything you wish to see in future chapters. Until then, grab some pop-corn 'cause we've got awhile to go!**

Dean found himself staring blankly at the angel before him. He knew that the bastard who stabbed him said that he had wiped his memory, but he had hoped that by protecting him Cas had remembered who they were. His face fell as his heart sank, his eyes that seconds ago were bright and overflowing with elation now met the angel's with a deep sadness. He didn't remember… For a split moment his mind wondered if perhaps this was worse… Mentally shaking himself, he let his practiced mask take over his features. Giving a short sigh, he prepared to start from the absolute beginning. The beginning. Before Cas was aware of Heaven's true intentions, before he began to let doubt give to life his emotions, before he had become his friend, before he had left Dean lost after his last late night visit. "Bobby is like a father to me and Sam. Sam is-"

"I know who your brother is. And I know you are Dean Winchester. Sons of Mary and John Winchester." The sudden change in the man's entire demeanor did not escape Castiel. He found his head now tilted quizzically to the side, as if this change in sight lines would give him answers. He did not like the now closed off look of this man, and seeing the emotions that were so blatantly at the forefront dissipate behind a shroud of nothing ate at him more than he could understand. "What I don't know is what I am still doing here." His confusion was not unfounded. After all, he had been sent here to kill the very man that sat within an arm's reach of him. If he hadn't already taken a near mortal wound to protect him (for reasons till unbeknownst to him), his orders could more than easily have been followed. The moment he let his sweeping glance fall back onto the other man's face he froze. Squinting his eyes in further bewilderment, he tried to place the cause of the emotion that now deepened the mask on Dean's sculpted features. Figuring it was an agreement to his last statement Castiel swung his legs to sit on the edge of the bed as he prepared to leave, and gasped as he was suddenly overcome with a wave of fresh pain that snaked through his core at the sudden twist of his torso. Clutching his waist for support, he found himself once again in a state of the perplexed as Dean's hands had rooted themselves carefully on his shoulders in instinctual support. Panting slightly, the angel allowed his eyes to lock onto those of the hunter he was meant to kill, losing focus in the eyes that he just noticed contained hints of amber he began wondering for the hundredth time it seemed, just what it was that he was missing.

Dean's brow furrowed as Cas' breath came in short huffs, his fingers tightening their hold protectively. He had been absorbed in gauging the extent of the wound that he did not notice for many moments the piercing gaze that seemed to burn through his defenses. He built the wall in his mind, careful to put all feelings behind it, lest the inquisitive stare sensed his havocked emotions. He couldn't let him know. Not now. Not while he wasn't the Cas he knew. Not while he wasn't the angel he had come to consider his family. He couldn't allow the utter hurt to seep through when the sapphire gaze was filled with confusion instead of the natural understanding he hadn't even realized that he was now reliant upon. Clearing his throat once more, he eased the wounded man back to rest against the head of the bed, making certain to do so with the utmost care so that another wave of pain wouldn't befall him. Once he was sure that the angel was settled, he moved from his cot, the indent of his weight still present on the taut canvas and with only a breath's hesitation sat on the foot of the bed. "Where else would you be Cas? You damn near died, hell by all accounts should have died!" Sliding his hand down his face to compose his trembling voice and to hide the shaking of his hand from his last words, he took a steadying breath and looked to the ceiling knowing full well that he could not speak coherently while he looked at the concentrative expression across from him. "Look. You needed to heal, and you're like family to us. We were going to make sure you were alright. This is always where we hole up."

If he thought he knew confusion, his definition could not have been more understated. He knew his ears were functioning properly, but he still had trouble believing them. Family? His garrison was his family. Or what they were always taught to consider family. It had been engrained in order to form a cohesive unit of angels that would protect each other. Was that the type of family this human meant? Bonds forged out of necessity? There was no room for fondness on the battlefield. "I don't understand. By family do you mean we fought together?" That didn't make sense though. To fight alongside a man he was ordered to kill would be rebelling against Heaven. Only one angel had done so, and Castiel much rather preferred this plane of existence to the fate that came upon him.

Before Dean could even process what the new wave of distress that had taken hold from Cas' non-existent remembrance, the sound of heavy boots in the doorway broke the words that were trying to form on his lips. "Well I'll be darned… When I thought I'd heard two voices instead of this idjit mumbling to himself I damned near thought maybe my whiskey was beginning to work, or work too well. Either way, it's good to have you back Cas."

Castiel took in the man in the doorway, obviously still under at least some influence of the before mentioned spirit, but recognized him nonetheless. He had been the unnamed man that his superior had held to the wall next to Sam. Something was bothering him though. "Why is it that both of you keep shortening my name?" Finding this as perhaps another strange custom of humans, guessing from the looks both men shared, he decided he would have to learn their basic customs. Considering he wouldn't have the strength to go anywhere for a while. The more rotund of the two spoke after adjusting his dirty hat. "How badly did that angel screw you in the head boy? What can you remember about us?" Sam had joined the group, leaning against the door frame with a look Castiel had mainly seen on a canine. Glancing briefly at all of them, he noticed how all three seemed to be more concerned than anything else (which set his mind reeling even further) and if he was going to find out what was missing in his lapse of memory, he figured it was best to provide a little information if he were to receive any. His usually gravelly voice was enhanced from its disuse, but he pressed on.

"I know that Dean was raised from his time in hell to serve as Michael's true vessel, just as Sam is the vessel to Lucifer. I know that the apocalypse is being put on hold due to your non-compliance to assume your destiny." Looking now to Bobby, he paused. There was a strange feeling… As though he should know so much more. As if he was given a glance at only one tree in a forest and told to count the total number of branches that the birds could perch on. "I don't know you. Other than what Dean briefly told me." His usual default solemn expression now turned the corners of his lips down, his brows scrunching together in effort. He knew that there was more. But as it had been while he was unconscious, he could not grasp any more.

Standing in utter disbelief, Sam raked his hand through his locks. "Cas, you seriously don't know anything else, do you?" Looking to his older brother, his concern only deepened. Dean took those he considered family more seriously than anything. Hell, nearly all of the people he considered family that was still alive filled this very room! Cas was one of the very few people his brother allowed to get close to him, and it had taken the angel full on rebelling against the entire plan of Heaven, saving both of their tails from demons countless times, and fighting side by side for nearly a year to earn that title. He knew above anything that when his family was hurt, it hit him harder than if the world were to end. He always took full responsibility for things that weren't even his fault, and now he could read between the lines of his closed off scowl, seeing that for this, Dean did blame himself. Shaking his head, he knew it was going to be one bitch of a ride for everyone involved if the angel didn't regain his memories. It was going to be a bitch until he did even. What could possibly cure a mind wipe from Heaven?

"No." Castiel looked to each man, landing finally on Dean. Feeling a tug in his gut that he couldn't explain, he took a moment to think. To see if anything at all would come to the forefront of his mind. Something to give the smoldering stares and allow him time to find answers of his own. So he told him the one truth he could muster without thought. "I remember orders."

 **The next chapter will be posted as soon as it is written, and will most likely be one of the longest chapters. Please do leave suggestions, and thank you very much for reading!**


	6. Ember

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I haven't had as much time to write these past few days but still wanted to give you something to read until the next one. Because the votes led to Path A this will be a slow build, but that just makes it all worth while! (Right?) Enjoy!**

The room was silent as each man was lost in their own train of thought. Castiel was staring straight ahead, leaning forward as if he must be ready for answers. It was only when he felt a growing warmth on the back of his hand that his concentration broke. Blood was dripping steadily from his bandages, forming nearly perfect circles, defaced only by the jutting spikes on their edges from the force of landing on his skin. Shifting to the edge of the bed once more, he began to reach for the gauze on the end table, wincing as another jolt of pain racked his chest. Before he could even let the wave pass, Dean was standing before him; a look of concern seemed almost permanently etched into his features as he stepped forward and took the roll. Castiel reached for it once more, trying to hide a grimace as he did so, but Dean held it just out of his grasp. Giving the man a pensive look, he found himself confused once more. "I can tend to my own wounds. Hand me the roll Dean."

Meeting his gaze coolly, the hunter tried to keep his unease in check, masking it as annoyance instead. "Cas, you can barely lift your arms without doubling over. Besides, you can't reach around your own back." Looking to Bobby and Sam to get back-up, both men grunted in agreement. As Cas looked to all of them with a mixture of befuddlement and apprehension, Dean felt yet another pang in his heart. Cas was normally so trusting with him, taking his word even over the training he had lived by for his entire long life before meeting him. And now he couldn't even decide if he should let him mend the wound he had received from protecting him. The room was becoming tense as Cas still hadn't answered, staring fixedly at Dean as if he was unsure. A low, deep grumble emanating from his stomach though seemed to clear the air as Sam burst into a short fit of laughter, Bobby himself giving a short chuckle, and Cas blinked a few times as he tried to find the source of the sound. Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder and nodded towards the door.

"Glad you're finally hungry! Why don't Bobby and I go out and grab a bite. Burgers sound good to everyone?" Dean cracked a ghost of a smile, a short huff meant to be a laugh escaping his lips. "Yeah Sammy, that sounds great. With bacon. And pie?" Grinning a bit, he gave a nod and left the room with Bobby. He was honestly just happy that Dean wasn't still on his tightrope of grieving worry, and had gotten some of his appetite back. Once both he and Bobby were in Impala, he gave a quick glance back at the house. "Bobby, do you think they'll be alright? I mean Cas was ordered to kill Dean, and he isn't exactly Cas right now." The older man gave him his signature exasperated look, his eyes squinted as if he was trying to find the brain that he knew had to exist somewhere in his head. "If Cas was going to follow orders blindly Dean would already be dead and there wouldn't be a gaping hole in his chest from the blade he jumped in front of. He may not remember, but the old Cas is the one who reacted." Sighing, Sam shook his head and finally gave a brief nod. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Giving a confirming huff, Bobby nearly looked offended but his words were endearing. "Course I am. Idjit." A stretch of silence followed as they rode into town, and Sam pulled into a diner and cut the engine. "Sam? Why are we stopped here?" Looking to Bobby, he gave a half smile that did nothing to change his knit brow. "I figured we could use a cup of coffee first. Besides, those two will probably need some time to talk. If anyone can help Cas remember it would be Dean."

Once they were alone, Castiel found himself more at ease. He did not enjoy feeling vulnerable, much less with multiple people to bear witness. But with Dean, he found himself to relax almost as if it were natural. Chiding himself, he immediately straightened his shoulders, flinching as he did so, and put on his pretense once more. He should be focusing on healing. Focused on getting his memories back, and focused on getting back to Heaven. He had no time to be distracted by such trivial things as comfort. He kept his eyes purposely fixated on the wall, not wishing to meet the penetrating gaze locked onto him. He could not explain why every time he did so he found himself completely entranced, in a daze and his head reeling for meaning yet again. So he wouldn't. But he did have to heal, and as the hunter pointed out he would need assistance. Unblinkingly, he put aside his inner turmoil as the blood seeping through his bandage now trickled down his stomach. "You're right. Perhaps I do need… Aid."

He had been looking dead at Cas, but not the one sitting in front of him. In his mind he had been looking for all of the tell-tale traits that he had come to know so easily, had seemed to memorize without even trying to. He was looking into the eyes that would not meet his, searching for the curious angel who always seemed to forget personal space, who always tried to understand the literal of sarcasm. But above all, he had been hunting for the bond that they had forged in fire, pain, loss, and blood. The one tha- "Dean?" The hoarse voice finally broke him out of his thoughts, blinking quickly a few times to focus his vision he sighed inwardly so his eyes would have time to register properly. He took another look into the captivating cerulean before he saw the ever growing crimson stain steadily marring the tan of the angel's skin. Snapping into action, he stood (perhaps a bit too quickly) and cleared his throat. "Ye-yeah. Let me just get everything." Working with the practiced motions of taking care of Cas for the past week it only took moments for him to get all of the materials organized. Getting on the bed behind him, he noticed a small flinch tense the bare shoulders as if he was still unsure. Trying not to let the bubble of hurt come to his face, he instead passed it off as a chuckle and gently turned Cas to look at him, he put all the sincerity he possessed into his voice. "Look, if I were going to hurt you I wouldn't have been your freaking bed maid for an entire week just to do something when you finally got enough beauty sleep. Chill, ok?" At this he saw the angel's brow furrow as he tilted his head to the side. "I don't know how lowering my body temperature would help with anything. Heat is necessary for circulating blood." Feeling a smile tug at his lips, Dean looked down and shook his head in amusement. This. He had missed the simple things like this. The child-like naivety that was given as straight laced and serious as a declaration of war never failed to put a warmth in his gut. Letting the grin enter his voice, he turned the angel back around to have full access to his back. "Well tell that to the blood coming out of your chest. Just sit still and let me patch you up Cas."

His muscles had been strained, unsure of why he could feel so calm in such a vulnerable state around this man, but the moment he heard the deep voice lighten ever so slightly, the smile on his lips tinging the sound, he found his muscles loosening, felt the strain wane from his core. He felt his brow crease however, as his training waged with his actions. A part of him knowing he should just follow his orders and kill this human, then be on his way back to Heaven. Another part, a much larger part it seemed, was perfectly fine with being here. It was almost content to be next to Dean. And he had to admit, he had never felt this at peace before and especially not whenever he still was injured. His thoughts were mulling over, round and around in a clamorous heap. Perhaps that is what caused the jolt the moment the hunter's calloused hands met his skin. Why was he reacting this way? He had let his guard down, maybe his nerves were still on edge from the power of the blade, or he had simply not been expecting the contact. Reprimanding himself, he squared his shoulders, ignoring the shooting pain in his chest. He was an angel of the Lord, he would not allow himself to be so… So human. He shuddered involuntarily as the bandage was cut away and he felt Dean's fingers gently, ever so gently brush against the very edge of the punctured skin, the heat of the touch in sharp contrast to the chill the absent bandage left behind. His mind was beginning to wander into unknown territory that left him absolutely bewildered and just a tad breathless. He needed a distraction, and he needed answers. Above all he needed to know what it was about this man that made him question everything and set his skin aflame with the smallest touch. Deciding blunt worked best, he stared straight ahead, focusing on keeping his skin from reacting any more than it had. "Dean, what am I to you? Why are you helping me?"

He had been so utterly fixated on scowling at the red puckered flesh, so concentrated on being as tender with cleaning the seeping blood as he could, that the question made his hand freeze as his head shoot up. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Taking a moment to figure out what to say, he carefully wiped the remaining sanguine fluid from the gaping hole. He couldn't tell him, hell he didn't even know what it meant himself and Cas didn't even remember him enough to know if he had actually been in the dream! Sighing deeply, he continued to clean the already sanitized wound and gave the only answer he knew for certain. "You're family Cas. With us that means through thick and thin, good times or bad, whether you're a douchebag or not, we're there for each other." Feeling his throat get thick, he cleared it and finished with the back half of the wound. Coming around to the front of the bed, he knelt down to clean the blood that had dripped down the length of the angel's stomach. "It means that we would do anything for each other, no matter how stupid to keep them safe. Like when you jumped in front of the freaking blade man, you knew it was stupid but you saved me. That's how family works." Standing now to get a better look at the entrance of the puncture, he went to work cleaning the skin. Halfway through, his eyes began to water as he felt the heartbeat underneath his fingertips. Without realizing it, his hand had frozen there, simply feeling the strong pulse, steady, unfaltering, and there. Eyes sliding closed, he simply felt the beat for a moment, relishing each and every _'thump'_ against his skin that he thought he would never feel again. His breath carried a whisper, meant to be a thought but betrayed by his lips. "How are you still alive Cas?" Apprehension hit him all at once, and he quickly bent down once more, acting as if he needed more hydrogen peroxide and quickly wiped his eyes, feeling all too well the flush coming to his cheeks. "Almost done, just need to get you some new bandages and you'll be good as new!" He hoped his voice wouldn't tremble with the tears left unshed, or be utterly high pitched from his scorching embarrassment, but instead he should have worried about it coming out as it did. Utterly lost and spurious with a hint of lingering dehydration. _'Son of a bitch! Get it together man! Stop it with the damned chick flick moments!'_

Castiel was engrossed, hanging on every word, trying to sense the truth in the words. Then he heard it again. Dean calling him family. Somewhere deep within his heart he could feel an ember ignite, nearly making him gasp, but he stifled it, not wanting to interrupt and possibly miss key information. That ember though, it felt as if it were supposed to be much larger. His emotions had always been more prominent, more powerful than his brothers and sisters. Whenever he attempted to ask them about it when he was young, back before man had begun building their first dynasties, none of the angels understood. Time and time again he was forced to shove them down, to bury them into non-existence in order to prevent the doubt that was beginning to spark in his mind. He had mastered it until the angels no longer felt as though he was a liability. Now… Now that nearly extinguished flame was coming to life again, was making him question everything around him, and not having any logical reasoning based on the events he could only rely on this carefully preserved instinct. Family… He was silently mulling the word over in his mind, trying to add this new definition to his realm of understanding in place of the harshness that would be the angel battalion when the resolution to ignore the tender strokes on his skin broke all at once. Dean's fingers lingered on his chest, not moving, not tending the wound as it had been, but just sitting there. Raising his eyes to meet the gaze of the hunter's questioningly, he was met with closed lids instead. The features on the other man though were transparent, the blatant feelings that were on display when he had first woken and been crushed in the embrace had returned. The visage before him bore a grief so profound that he was taken aback. Over his many years of observing humans, he had never once seen such sorrow take hold in each line of a face. Had never seen a man so used to control hang onto the dam behind his walls with such a frayed thread. The warmth radiating from the other man's hand was soothing, nurturing even. His heart was right underneath the palm, and he could not help but recall the way he had been tuned to Dean's when he had been pinned against the wall. Castiel felt his breathing slow, fearing that doing anything would break the warmth that gave way to something within his senses, triggering long suppressed feelings that were forbidden to his kind. He felt his own eyes close, taking in the contact, trying to let this newfound key unlock the confines of his memory, until he heard the phantom of speech echo from the hunter. Taken aback by the dew that had begun to form in the outer corners of his eyes and the utter rawness of the question, his eyes sprang open just in time to see the hand flee from his chest and the hunter quickly duck out of sight. He had to bite back the impulse to grab his hand again, to let it dwell longer on his flesh, to listen to the pulse of the man in front of him, but he knew such things were not to be tolerated. Choosing instead to once again lock his gaze on to the wall, he couldn't help but notice a longing to banish the iciness that now resided where the hand had only a moment ago brought him such comfort. Comfort that he was not allowed he reminded himself. He could not give in to his emotions. Heaven's wrath was just, not merciful. That lesson had been taught to him many times… He had to find out what his true mission was. "Very well. Now that I am conscious my body will heal properly. Though it will take time due to the severity." The small ember seemed to light a spark then, fueling his next words. "I am afraid I may require to stay here longer than is usually needed." If he could not go by his memories or his scattered mind, he could only rely on the sensation in his chest that seemed to propel him further from his brethren and closer to this man. He had a feeling… Yes. He could admit it. A _feeling_ that he would find more answers here than he had first imagined. He only prayed he would not stray too far from Heaven in this journey…

 **Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter will be posted as soon as my fingers type what my brain means :) Any suggestions, critiques, or reviews are much appreciated and will be used to improve and fine tune the story. So if there is something you'd like to see or an idea you think would develop the plot along it would mean more than you know!**


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